


✥Blanket of Fog✥

by TheUltimateSaltySnack



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angels, Asylum, Dark, England - Freeform, F/M, Fallen Angels, Gothic, Gothic Romance, Halloween, Jack the Ripper - Freeform, Jack the Ripper Murders, London, Murder Mystery, Serial Killers, Spooky, Supernatural - Freeform, Supernatural Elements, Undertaker, Vampyre, Victorian, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 18:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16289555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUltimateSaltySnack/pseuds/TheUltimateSaltySnack
Summary: The year is 1888. All of London has been set on edge by an elusive killer known as “Jack the Ripper.” But what is this murderer’s identity and what are his true goals? Shuichi Saihara, a detective working under the famous Kyoko Kirigiri, aims to find out. However, he’ll need the help of his maid, a young woman named Kirumi Toujou, who knows a thing or two about the supernatural creatures that operate in England.I will add characters as they show up. It's likely gonna be a real random mix from all DR media. Just people who fit the situation.





	1. Killer in the Mist

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So this is just a thing I've been thinking of doing for a while now. Since it's October, I thought there would be no more fitting time for a sort of darker story like this!
> 
> NOTE: The character list is everyone I anticipate appearing based on my outline. Some may not come in til way later. I may add characters as well.
> 
> Thank you and Happy Month of Halloween, my darlings!
> 
> ~ Carnival

The woman inserted an ornate key into the front door and clicked the deadbolt into place. A final time, she peeked past the window’s doily-like curtains for any sign of movement. After confirming that she hadn’t been noticed, she giggled. At last, she had escaped to the mist-coated streets.

The blonde took a swing of the night air and released her breath with an “aaaaah.”

_You’re home free, Miu!_

she thought to herself.

_Nothing stands between you and the hardest whisky in town!_

Miu Iruma smirked, throwing out her arms to bask in London’s autumn breeze; She soaked in everything from the damp stone road to the odor of distant smokestacks. As she hurried off to enjoy her youth, she imagined her older sisters snoozing away comfortably in their cotton night gowns and fresh linen sheets. They were, no doubt, getting their beauty rest. Then, at dawn, they’d wake to a breakfast of tea and porridge.

But not Miu. She was the black sheep, the gal who’d rather go get dirty than stay home to read books and drink shitty leaf water. As she wove through the drab city, she anticipated the glowing welcome the bartender would give her. Of course, she was bound to find Celestia lurking by the tavern’s fireplace. That information broker’s spring of crazy stories never ran dry, and she’d often tell the best tales to those who felt brave enough to challenge her in poker.

Miu turned into an alley, the crisp clack of her heels accompanying her. Overhead, the golden moon peered down at the woman, it’s light dulled by the fog. She noted that it was one phase from full— only a sliver missing.

_This would be a nice night to meet a man too._

Of course, Miu knew packs of men already. She’d met foul-mouthed sailors, chimney sweepers, gamblers, and even thieves at the bar. The blonde genuinely enjoyed their company, but having a spontaneous affair with a gentleman sounded like a nice change of pace.

Unfortunately, the only polished-looking guys in those parts all seemed to be either committed to ladies like Miu’s sisters, or working for Scotland Yard. Miu let out an involuntary groan. Policemen were the worst— no fun at all. The number of times Officer Ishimaru had hounded her for minor misdemeanors exceeded the rats in the catacombs.

But, as much as Scotland Yard rustled her feathers, the crowd they worked with wasn’t half bad. The blonde recalled spotting a new inspector at the Kirigiri Detective Agency. Recently, she’d seen him enter through the door with a bloated briefcase. He’d been handsome in a soft sort of way. The young man had carried himself in a manner both calm and unsure. That paradoxical aura of his intrigued Miu.

Fine. She’d made up her mind. She would visit and see if he wanted to have some fun, an official tour of this old part of town given by someone who lived an exciting life.

Though Miu wished to further indulge in fantasies of the detective, an aroma of lilies gave her pause. The scent reminded her of the powders that girls at her former finishing school used to pat all over their faces and necks. This smell, in a thickly synthetic way, gave a floral impression.

The woman sniffed, searching from side to side for a new flower shop, or a lady on an evening stroll. Only the darkness of sleeping storefronts greeted her. Confused, but unperturbed, Miu continued onward until a light noise halted her once again.

“Kehehehe.”

The sound was so faint that Miu struggled to tell if it were man-made or simply a loose shutter tapping its frame. She stiffened and, remaining perfectly still, listened.

“Kehehehe.”

This time, she immediately knew that a person had produced that chuckle. It speared through the silence, indicating proximity.

“Who’s there?” snapped Miu, whirling around to find the source of the snicker. “Listen, you piece of shit. Ogle me during the f*cking day. I’ve got places to be now.”

In response, a figure stepped out from the fog, putting forth a polished black shoe before pulling the rest of his body forward. Tendrils of mist embraced his legs as if begging him not to leave. The ghostly arms only contributed to his ominous appearance. The stranger gave Miu the same spooked feeling somebody would experience while walking through a cemetery during the witching hour.

A beaked mask, the kind that plague doctors wore, shielded his head from view. Though he beat Miu’s height by several inches, his physique was slender without visible muscle. Ironically, that frightened her all the more.

“My, what a mouth,” said the man in a slow, satin tone. His voice reverberated off the inside of his mask, slightly suppressing his words. “I dearly hope you are not the one.”

“T-t-the hell does that mean?” Miu spat, taking a step back. This situation had begun to feel dangerous. She felt herself slipping into her more timid nature. “Y-you leave me alone! Or I’ll run to the Kirigiri Agency! I’m sure they’d help me if I offer them *anything* they want!”

Inwardly, Miu laughed a bit. This might actually be a great opportunity for her to utilize her feminine wiles. What man could resist a beautiful woman pleading for aid? If she weren’t so nervous, she would further fantasize.

“I don’t have to worry about that. Your top speed is likely about a third of what you really need.”

Goosebumps lay siege to the back of Miu’s neck and arms. Something felt off— uncanny— like a foul, unexpected aftertaste. The woman’s world rocked a bit; even the nearly-full moon felt unreal.

In the couple of seconds it took for her to flit her blue eyes up to the sky, the stranger advanced. And, in the timespan of one hand clap, he was upon her, raising something curved.

A sickle.

Miu’s heart pounded so quickly that she was sure it alone would kill her. Nevertheless, she shrieked. The weapon veered and swung diagonally, through her jugular and esophagus.

Her body gave up on supporting her and she crashed to the ground. The street greeted the blonde with a crack to her skull. Tiny pools of water soaked through her dress; she could even feel the bone-stabbing chill through her corset. Spluttering, Miu stared up at the sky as a wave of fog began to distort it.

“YOU! I heard a woman scream! Is— My god!”

_It’s…. Ishimaru…_

Though losing consciousness quickly, Miu recognized the voice. Her head felt as though someone had filled it with cotton.

“STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” she heard the officer order her assailant. “I HAVE A WEAPON!”

“Ah. That little revolver?” the masked man asked. “Why bother even aiming it? We both know you won’t fire it in the end.”

“I might! DON’T MOVE!”

Again, the man in black released a muffled laugh,

“Kehehehe. You don’t have the scent of death on you. You’ve never fired that thing, and it’s such a pity. If you smelled like gore, then perhaps you would have masked this woman’s stench. She’s certainly filled with abominable blood.”

“Are you mad?! I— if you’re just going insane, I’ll figure things out! I’ll get you help! But turn yourself in!”

Miu’s vision continuously skipped in and out like a busted phonograph. Only her fingers could still move. She twitched them.

_You’re the mad one, Ishimaru… No. You’re just a fucking idiot._

The blonde wondered how a man like him had climbed the ranks of Scotland Yard. Respectfulness marred his survival instinct. Some people would never turn their lives around or accept the law, but Ishimaru would never admit that. He’d only insist that London had more order than it truly did.

“How beautiful, Officer!” said the other man. “Your belief in human values exceeds my expectations. I’ll leave you to run to this woman then. Ah, the pure ones stooping to rescue the damned! I wish to see more of that. Once I find…. kehehe. Well, that’s enough. I need to be on my way. Goodnight, Sir. Enjoy the life I’m allowing you to keep. I needn’t harm someone like you. I can tell you’re not *that* person with just one look.”

“Hold on! I’m the authority here and— No!”

The figure turned and headed into the thickening fog. Ishimaru dove forward to grab the man only to fall through a vortex of empty mist.

Ishimaru smacked the ground with a palm and rose to his feet, returning his revolver to the holster beneath his coat. He hurried towards Miu, but she couldn’t focus on him. All she could watch was the fog rolling across the street.

As her spirit waned, her eyes took on that same cloudy appearance.

 

✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥

 

“A black tea with strawberry and vanilla. As per your tastes, I’ve made it extra strong. One cube brown sugar, a tablespoon of milk, and no honey.”

Kirumi gently set the silver-rimmed tea cup on Shuichi’s desk. The china rattled slightly against the mahogany. Nodding, the detective tapped the bottom of his documents on the desk to align them before setting the stack on the top corner of his work station. He breathed steam off the tea.

“I appreciate it, Kirumi. Thank you.”

The maid smiled, stepping back to her cart and spreading butter onto an orange-and-raisin scone.

“No need to thank me.” She placed the pastry on a plate before passing it to him. “If I may ask, however… What is it that you are working on? I noticed that your lamp was still lit late last night. A difficult case?”

Shuichi lowered the teacup from his lips and sent a sideways glance to his papers. Kirumi sensed professional unease in the raven-haired man. The investigator’s eyes tended to change in the lighting, shifting between shades of gold and grey. Now they shone the color of the gloomy waters from which mariners steered clear.

“Mr. Ishimaru gave Miss Kirigiri a case yesterday,” he finally said. “But she’s caught up dealing with a kidnapping attempt. The victim was Queen Sonia’s niece, making it a top priority.”

“So she told you to take this case alone,” guessed Kirumi. “You’re worried?”

“A bit,” admitted Shuichi. “This isn’t a theft or even a single murder. It’s a string of deaths. All the victims were women between the ages of sixteen and thirty. Initially, Scotland Yard had a different agency looking into things, but got no results. Finally, they turned to us. Actually… the last murder was closeby.”

Kirumi rubbed her chin. How gruesome… What unfortunate women. The maid didn’t fear for her own life; few would be skilled enough to take a being like her down. Yet, she felt a certain anger on behalf of the women whose lives were stolen. Surely, they all had hopes, dreams, and potential.

“I don’t even have a suspect list.” Shuichi bit his scone. He licked stray butter and crumbs from his mouth before speaking again. “According to Mr. Ishimaru, the culprit was a man who wore a mask and had a lanky figure. That’s not much to go off of.”

Patting the top of her tea cart, the maid observed the contents of her master’s desk. She noted the inky scrawls across his reports. His curvy handwriting gave her a potent sense of familiarity. When she’d first come to work for Shuichi Saihara, she had encouraged the apprentice investigator to share his hobbies with her….

Finally, he’d caved to the prospect of indulging in his interests, and selected his favorite novels and poem anthologies for his servant to read. She’d pushed herself even harder to complete her daily tasks just so that she’d have time, come dusk, to read by oil lamp. The stories certainly entertained her, but she’d come to love reading Shuichi’s notes. His voice, style, and analyses proved even more enjoyable to Kirumi than the works themselves. Many nights, she delved so deeply into his writing that she relied on the chiming of the grandfather clock to remind her to sleep.

“This is no Herculean task,” Kirumi told Shuichi. “Especially not for you. Miss Kirigiri put you on this case because she has faith in you. I do as well. When you take notes, every word from your pen is insightful. Your thoughts on The Murders in the Rue Morgue were just brilliant.”

Shuichi clutched his pen.

“This isn’t a novel by some grim-minded American author. Books give you all the information. Life might not.”

“Then you must seek the information out,” the maid reminded him.

The detective managed a smile, grabbing his stack of notes once more. He leafed through the pages until he came to one dogeared sheet.

“I do have two places to start. The first is the Iruma Household, the family of the most recent victim.” His brow furrowed. “The second is the undertaker.”

“Don’t worry. Mr. Tanaka isn’t as frightening as his job title might have you believe.”

Surprised at the ring of an additional voice, Shuichi sprung up as a straight-spined woman entered through the doorway.

Kyoko Kirigiri carried herself with an aura of duality. She groomed herself with girlish sensibility, wearing her hair in a fashionable bun with one braided strand falling to her waist. The seasoned detective kept her white blouse tucked into a black skirt; she’d pinned her high collar closed with one opal button. Yet, for all her grace and womanly composure, she strode with the steeled gait of a soldier. Feminine charm and masculine might— that was Kyoko Kirigiri.

“M’am!” Shuichi greeted her.

Kirumi curtsied, folding her hands across her midsection and keeping her head bowed.

“At ease, both of you,” said Kyoko. “I’ve been dealing with incompetence all day. I’m sure that, no matter the conversation, speaking with you will be a breath of fresh air.”

She sat herself down on one of the armchairs in the center of the room, a few yards from Shuichi’s desk. Crossing one leg over the other, she propped her hand against a fist.

“Miss Toujou, a cup of tea. Please.”

“Of course.”

Kirumi gathered her ingredients in front of her at the cart. The rose tea needed to seep until it reached a maple shade. Next, Kirumi mixed in a dollop of honey and a splash of milk.

“So. You’re going to visit the undertaker?” asked the senior detective as the maid prepared her beverage.

“Yes, after I speak with the victim’s sisters.”

Shuichi approached his boss’s chair and presented his notes to her. With a gloved hand, Kirigiri snatched the parchment before scanning the text with amethyst eyes.

“You’ve got a good start,” she told him. “This ‘Jack the Ripper’ character, as they’re calling him, is an elusive criminal. Don’t expect yourself to see the the whole web right away.”

_A web._

Kirumi imagined the lacy design as she placed Kyoko Kirigiri’s drink on the coffee table. She’d first heard that metaphor during her second day on the job. Shuichi and Kyoko often referred to their cases as webs. They sought thread after thread until they finally saw the whole image and, at its center, the spider. The culprit.

Kyoko tilted her head back, draining her tea in one go. She stood.

“As I’ve told you, you’re mostly on your own for this case. But, I can read through some of your work tonight and give you a few tips. I suggest staying in close contact with Mr. Ishimaru. He’s our only witness at this point. I’ll also inform Mr. Tanaka that you’ll be by soon. That man’s senseless blattering is even worse when he doesn’t know you.”

“I appreciate it,” said Shuichi with a bow.

Kirigiri smiled fondly. “Take care of yourself, Mr. Saihara. You too, Miss Toujou.”

With that, the woman headed out the door, her braid swinging behind her.

Officer Ishimaru, the Iruma sisters, and Tanaka the undertaker… Kirumi knew that each of them could add strands to the web, and she had faith that Shuichi would eventually discover the spider.

However, the young man only stared at Kyoko’s empty teacup, clearly situated in his own mind. Finally he blinked.

“We’ll see what information we get from Mr. Tanaka and the sisters. Since we already have Mr. Ishimaru’s full witness report, I think he’ll mainly be good for confirming stories and getting us connected with persons of interest. Scotland Yard has quite a bit of influence.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Kirumi collected the dishes from the coffee table and Shuichi’s desk. “I’ll take care of things here. You best get ready for your two o’clock.”

Jolting, Shuichi checked the time. He finger-combed his obsidian hair and smoothed the wrinkles on his shirt.

“Thank you! I can’t forget that.”

Kirumi smiled. Shuichi shared his daytimer with her at the beginning of each week and she’d never forgotten an engagement. This time, he needed to meet with a representative from the chemist who supplied the agency’s nitric acid and zinc for arsenic tests.

With a short nod, Shuichi took off towards the stairs that led to the agency’s lobby.

Surveying the untidiness around her, Kirumi rolled up her sleeves. It was time to continue with one of her favorite pastimes: the daily chores.

 

✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥

 

The maid finished her tasks as the clock struck seven. She’d swept the floors, hung the laundry, polished the smudges from every desk, filed the bookcase from a confusing configuration of texts to an organized display, prepared and served chicken pie for supper, and scrubbed the tubs before washing herself and slipping into her night clothes.

However, she found that her mind was not quite ready for rest or reading. Though she disliked the idea of wasting time, the maid decided that collecting her thoughts would be healthy and improve her quality of service. She grabbed a container of biscuits that one of the neighbors had gifted her for finding his cat, and stepped onto the balcony.

Kirumi removed her sleep bonnet, letting the breeze rustle her short, grey hair. One small gust brushed the bangs from her eye and pet her cheek. The maid unscrewed the top of the biscuit tin and removed one of the dry snacks. She consumed the biscuit carefully, as not to spread crumbs, and studied the label on the tin.

“Clockman’s Famous Biscuits” it read. Underneath the flamboyant script, were drawn two children: a boy and girl. The little lady showed a gap-toothed grin, holding a doll in one hand and a biscuit in the other. Her rosy-nosed partner held a toy train and reached for the girl’s treat with his free hand.

The maid brushed her thumb over the paper label and across the brass container. She didn’t understand advertisements that depicted unhappy people. She studied the boy’s frown.

_Perhaps desire is something that just resonates with humans_

She set the tin on the railing, suddenly feeling chilled. But how could she blame humans for wanting too much when she’d profited off of that emotion for so long? Her hunger… her drive to grant every wish and quell every desire… that’s what had gotten her into so much trouble…

“May I join you?”

Kirumi nodded and waved Shuichi over. He leaned beside her on the railing. His pocket watch slipped from his vest, and would have plunged through the night and to the street below had Kirumi not caught it.

The detective blushed as the maid placed the watch into his palm. He cleared his throat.

“Thank you…” Something on the street below seemed to catch his attention and Kirumi followed his line of sight to a woman. She ushered four children, like a brood of ducklings, down the street. Each family member donned several layers of patched clothing, garbs that would have already been tossed out by people of Shuichi’s class.

The investigator frowned at the family, no doubt realizing that London was already in the womb of autumn and that the season would soon give birth to winter. Kirumi took his hand in her fingers. Her breath materialized faintly as she spoke.

“You really worry for others.”

Shuichi clutched her hand— his skin felt icy.

“I can’t help it. I wanted to be a detective for that reason, but…”

“Telling the truth can also hurt people. The starving will steal bread. The downtrodden will eventually lash out and kill,” Kirumi finished.

Shuichi sighed. “I wish only evil people committed crimes.”

Kirumi gazed up at the clear sky and waxed moon. A raven nosedived through the air and landed on a roof that needed a few shingles replaced.

“In an ideal world, that would be the case. But… I think things are all right as they are now,” said Kirumi. “If not for my crime, we would not have met.”

“That’s different. A lot different,” said Shuichi. He watched the raven hop to the chimney and peek down the sooty shaft. The detective straightened. “Miss Kirigiri came in earlier and I didn’t get a chance to ask you… Do you think these murders could be supernatural in nature? If anyone would know, it’s you.”

The raven took off, shedding a single feather which fluttered down the side of the building. Eagerly, one of the children collected it and ran his finger down both sides, briefly separating the little fibers.

_The guardians of London must not exist to serve whims. Only the good._

_Not every request is just._

_Happiness is not always the same as well-being_

_But you did not care._

_Now you are given a final option._

_To find a human to host you._

_One you trust to show you those truly in need._

“Kirumi?”

The maid turned to him, the murky clouds in her mind dissipating.

“Forgive me. I was remembering something. As for your question… I cannot tell at this stage. I wish to stay close by your side, but I fear that just my presence will also cause suffering for you. If the culprit is truly inhuman.”

Shuichi shook his head forcefully, clasping her hand in both of his. His eyes now shone the color of treasure, a pop of color against his pale skin and midnight hair.

“I said I’d help you until the very end. So far, you’ve only given to me. You can’t leave before I make good on my promise.”

His eyes were so soft and warm, the only things in the world that could make Kirumi sleepy.

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving until we are both satisfied. So, for now, let’s focus on this case. As master and maid and not…” She trailed off.

“I know.”

His breath released in a whisp. A carriage drove by. Kirumi found the horses’ clopping soothing. Like a heartbeat.

She recalled that one muggy afternoon in the cemetery, the day she’d met Shuichi Saihara. So vividly in her mind, she saw him keeping watch over a headstone, one with a pair of guardians angels and an eloquent epitaph chiseled into the granite face. She saw the moody slate sky and the way he extended his umbrella to a gray-haired woman who radiated a miasmic aura. She spoke and whirlpool of shadow and feathers engulfed them both.

A pact of mutual interest.

Shuichi Saihara would to bring her closer to the truth, a truth she desperately needed if she ever wanted to be whole again. So, if he wanted to go after Jack the Ripper…

She’d chase after that killer with all her might.

 

_✥ To be continued ✥_


	2. Angel in the Mist

From the kitchen, Kirumi heard the great oak door click open. She listened to Shuichi shake droplets off the flaps of his umbrella. The “thunk” of the umbrella’s tip hitting the bottom of the brass storage can echoed for just a moment.

Shaking the final touch of powdered sugar onto an apple tart, the maid glanced out the window. The overcast morning gave her chills even from indoors. Yet, no matter how dreary the skies, how frigid the air, Shuichi never allowed anything to stop him from visiting the Tamberlane Cemetery every Sunday. While even the pigeons huddled beneath overhangings to avoid the drizzle, he’d press on. Last winter, Kirumi had even accompanied him to the cemetery’s iron gates, worried that he would, without her, succumb to the raging blizzard. She pursed her lips as she imagined his body, mummified under pounds of snow and ice.

“Good morning,” the detective greeted her, appearing in the doorway. Pink tinted the tips of his ears and nose.

Kirumi pulled a chair up to the stove, careful not to let it screech against the floor. She pointed to the warm dessert she’d just finished.

“Sit and warm up. Would you like a slice of tart?”

He nodded eagerly, taking a seat and rubbing his palms together. The friction slowly warmed his skin.

“It’s not like you to eat sweets for breakfast,” he remarked.

The maid placed a rolling pin, dusted over with flour, into the sudsy water of her wash basin. She dried her hands with a towel hanging from her waist, her mouth curling upwards at the corners. Choosing a knife from her utensil drawer, she began to section the dessert.

“It certainly isn’t. I had my breakfast at four.”

“Kirumi… That’s so early…” Shuichi trailed off. He watched her cut into the layers of caramelized apples.

“I urge you not to worry about me,” she said. “Once I wake, I cannot simply return to sleep. I do not need as much rest as you do anyway.” She sighed as she pulled two china plates from the cupboard. “But, I suspect that you won’t listen to me. Contemplating and worrying– that's just part of who you are.”

“I accept your views on most things,” protested Shuichi. “I mean, you know more about… well, your condition than I do.”

She placed the tart slices and a pair of forks at the table, watching Shuichi scoot up to the table and take his plate. She waited for him to eat; only then did she taste her own piece.

“If you listened to my suggestions, you wouldn’t be here now. I keep telling you that you needn’t come into the kitchen. It’s not a fitting place for the master of the household to be.”

“You’re the only other person here.” He stifled a light chuckle. “I’d be lonely if I couldn’t talk to you.”

Kirumi shook her head. “But you tend to visit the cemetery when you feel lonely.”

She cut the tip of her tart with the side of her fork. She watched her distorted reflection in the metal. Her eye, green as the bayous of New Orleans, stared back at her and, with a wince, she realized how much emotion her gaze gave away. Hoping that Shuichi hadn’t seen her brief bitterness, she softened her eyes. Only an expression of maturity suited a maid.

“Going just makes me feel lonelier, honestly,” he said. “But… that sort of loneliness reminds me why I’m a detective, and so I have to go. Besides, I’m sure she wouldn’t want me to forget about her.”

She– Kaede Akamatsu.

Kirumi had never known the woman while she still lived, but Shuichi had recounted his past to her in such detail that she saw the blonde vividly in her mind. Kaede had been a pianist's lovely daughter, and Shuichi’s friend since childhood. Kirumi imagined the fair child in the pale pink dress that Shuichi said she loved so much. How much a girl like her would have contrasted with a boy like Shuichi. Together, they must have been as different as a canary and a crow. Still, they’d loved each other

Shuichi had described Kaede as the kind of friend who would only grew stronger as times grew tough; challenges strengthened her resolve and increased her kindness. In addition to her soft heart, she possessed a sharp mind, and had even attended the same university as Shuichi-- one of the few women accepted. Not only could she fight for her own respect, but she’d argued for Shuichi’s as well.

“I had a professor who despised me, humiliated me when he could, and nitpicked my papers in the cruelest way. Soon, I could not even keep my head up,” Shuichi once told Kirumi. “Finally, Kaede pulled me into a library study room and demanded that I stand up for myself. She told me that I should threaten to give the professor’s disrespectful letters to the university president. She marched me to the classroom and waited outside as I spoke with him.”

Soon after the pair graduated, their families met and discussed marriage. No one objected; in fact, both Kaede and Shuichi wholeheartedly supported the arrangement. The weeks leading up to their wedding, Kaede visited the Saihara manor more and more often. The pair sat before in the glow of the fireplace, sipping brandy, eating cordial cherries, and reading novels. One Christmas Eve, Kaede had just placed a warm plate of vanilla cookies below the tree, joking that they had to start figuring out how to make Santa believable if they were ever to fool future children. Realizing that he needed to deliver one last package to his mother-- a woman who sang in Italy for the opera-- before the post office closed, Shuichi excused himself. He kissed his fiance on the cheek and promised to return soon.

The trip hadn’t taken long, only about twenty minutes, however… many things had taken place in his absence, many dark, cruel things.

When Shuichi returned, he’d first noticed the open door that allowed gusts of wind to sweep snow into the vestibule. Cautiously, he’d entered, calling for Kaede. When no one answered, he grew worried and searched frantically, noticing missing valuables and torn-open gifts as he looked. Finally, he found the woman lying limp on the stairs. Her mauve eyes stared blankly at the ceiling with tears lingering in the corners. Someone had wound a rope, a chord from one of the curtains, around her neck so tightly that her pale skin had broken in places. Kaede still clutched a knife, soaked in red to the hilt, in her right hand.

The authorities finally apprehended the culprit several months later, when he was overtaken by a homeowner during another break in. The killer confessed to Kaede’s murder and several others. He bit his lip, seemingly pleased with his destruction. He recalled his victims in detail, even mentioned how one of them had been a determined blonde woman who’d stabbed him in the shoulder with his own knife before going down. Shuichi nearly lost his composure upon hearing that. Though the man hung from the gallows the next day, his execution had come too late for far too many.

After hearing this tale, Kirumi had come to better understand the conditions she’d met her master in. She remembered first laying eyes on the grim young man who stood in the rain, clutching his umbrella tightly as he simply stared at the words on a headstone.

_Kaede Akamatsu_

_An angel on earth_

That epitaph had been what attracted Kirumi at first. She’d spent all night in the graveyard, soaking wet and the wind blowing through the tears in her dress. No one had paid her any attention even when she’d asked for food to eat. She hadn’t expected Shuichi to turn as he had and raise his umbrella to her. Blinking droplets of rain from her dark lashes, she asked,

“Why are you here?”

“The same reason most people come to a cemetery,” he said simply. “To visit someone I love.”

They stood watching each other. Only the plinking of rain against the umbrella prevented total silence.

“The person buried here did not die naturally,” Kirumi said at last. “I can see it in your eyes. I assume that you want whoever took your friend’s life to suffer. That’s your deepest wish?”

Shuichi’s brows met as he frowned. Soundless lightning briefly scarred the grey clouds.

“He’s dead now, but I’m sure I did want that. Just… I don’t think it was ever my deepest wish. What would a wish like that even change? I can’t save the person I lost, so… I think the next logical thing would be to prevent what happened to her from happening to others.”

Kirumi tilted her head, and streaks of rain ran down her cheek. Her heart pattered at his answer. Not only had he been truly unfortunate, but he sought to find those with perhaps even worse luck. A person like him was the kind of human she’d waited for.

“So what will you do?”

He let out a breath, a sort of half-laugh. He drew a clean line in the dirt with his toe. A worm, brought to the surface by the muggy weather, inched through the tiny trench.

“You’re oddly interested in a stranger’s life,” he said. “But to answer your question, I’m a detective now. I investigate crimes and missing person cases.” He glanced back at the headstone, briefly observing a single lily at the base of the grave marker. Rain had slightly torn one of the leaves from its stalk and flattened the blossom. “But things don’t turn out how I expected they would. Not every criminal is the soulless monster who inspired me to join this line of work. Some killers are just as desperate and frightened as their victims. Coming here helps me calm down and remember why I chose this line of work.”

“That’s admirable,” said Kirumi, she set her jaw and stared into his eyes which reflected the storm around them. “Please. Let me be your maid. If you allow me to meet some of the unlucky people you work with, I’ll devote myself to you. I am no stranger to serving others. I find it quite pleasant, actually.”

Shuichi opened his mouth in surprise. Kirumi watched him take another look at her tattered clothes and gaunt face. She knew he was wondering about her motives, trying to determine whether or not she was mad. Finally, he took the direct approach and said,

“I might allow that if you give me a good enough reason to trust you.”

“Mutual interest,” she said, having expected his response. “Tell me, do you believe in the supernatural? In the occult? In the celestial? Do those things frighten you?”

With a perplexed look, he considered her questions.

“I’m not superstitious,” he said at last. “But if any of those things ever became relevant to my line of work, I’d study them. I would not be able to afford fear.”

Three more silent bursts of lightning snaked through the sky. Deciding at last that she must reveal her nature, Kirumi backed up, not caring about the heel-deep mud behind her. In an explosion of shadow, her clothes mended themselves. Her face filled out and her cheeks pinkened. Her eyes darkened until they turned black and twin geysers of inky feathers sprang from her shoulder blades. Enough feathers to clothe a murder of crows swirled around her and Shuichi.

The detective paled and his vertebrae straightened. But he did not try to flee. He only watched Kirumi with troubled eyes.

“Mutual interest,” Kirumi said again. “If I can grant the most purehearted wish in London, I can atone for all the evil desires I’ve fulfilled-- wishes I carried out simply because I could not stand to let any request, just or unjust, go unanswered. If I atone, I can return from being a blackened celestial to spotless.”

“Celestial… an angel,” Shuichi murmured to himself. He gaze wandered to the twin angels etched onto Kaede’s headstone and her fitting epitaph. “Yes…” he said. “Yes, I think I trust you. Very well. Come help me solve these cases and I’m sure you’ll meet someone with an honorable wish.”

“Show me your hand.”

When the detective had done as she’d asked, a obsidian feather floated to his palm and melted into the flesh. Like a snowflake, it faded into his soft skin.

“A sign of our covenant,” she explained. Her unsightly wings shrunk into her back and her eyes shifted to green.

That night, a beautiful maid of a serious temperament had accompanied Shuichi home. She held his umbrella as they wove their way through the labyrinth of London.

Now, Kirumi recalled that first meeting as she bit a sliced apple from her fork. Back then, she hadn’t realized how much she would grow to like Shuichi. Of course, she knew that he would not treat her with any rudeness; but the more she learned about his personality, his hobbies, and his potential, the fonder she grew of him. From time to time, she caught glimpses of the same fondness in his expression. Those faces of his pleased her. She wished he’d make them more often.

Her mind wandered to their case. She knew that this Jack the Ripper was just the kind of man that Shuichi longed to expose. Jack had slaughtered too many, acted too wickedly to be simply a lost soul. That made him the same as the criminal who had driven Shuichi to his work.

_I’ll catch him for you. Then you might show me that fond smile again._

Kirumi felt ashamed of that thought. Other than his company and access to the world of crimes and victims, she shouldn’t be wanting anything from her master. Her job was to help him regardless of any reward.

Shuichi took his last bite of tart and stood.

“Let’s not waste any more time and head out. The Iruma residence is our first stop.”

 

_✥ To be continued ✥_


	3. Sisters in the Mist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back.
> 
> For those of you who follow my Lie Arc fic, you know I'm the kind of writer who seems like she's dropped a fic then comes back like 6 months later XD The bad news is, these chapters are hella inconsistent. The good news is that I probably won't ever straight up quit. So this chapter was 7,000+ words when I finished it and one of my friends suggested I split it. So there will be a new chapter over the weekend probably. Lol.  
> Me: Hasn't updated since 2018.  
> Also me: will probably post chapters 3 and 4 in same week.
> 
> I've mentioned this before, but I'm active on Danganronpa Amino. So if you're on there, you can catch me on the fanfic chat if you want more confirmation that I'm not dead and indeed still like DR and writing. 
> 
> Anywaaaaay, that's enough of my rammbling  
> Enjoy, kids.

Shuichi and Kirumi arrived at the Iruma residence just before 9:00 am. The rain still hadn’t let up, but this gloomy weather was typical for London in autumn. In a way, Kirumi felt like all things were in their proper place when it rained.

In the distance, Big Ben chimed, drawing Kirumi’s attention to the clock tower. Like a 96 meter pike, it pierced upwards through the clouds and drizzle. Its normally tan surface had darkened in the rain. The maid watched the archways and windows, imagining that someone, for whatever reason, stood just beyond one of them, completely unaware of her or Shuichi below. Briefly, she wondered how such a height would feel to a human. Afterall, they had to worry about falling.

Focusing back on the task at hand, Kirumi followed Shuichi up the stairs to the front door. Water slicked the steps and pooled in each crevasse. The detective seemed to take note of this; no matter how irrelevant a detail might seem, he tended to remember it. He observed the house’s lace curtains and the door’s ornate knocker, a bronze lion with a ring in its fangs.

Kirumi tucked her umbrella away as they passed under the overhanging. Her master rapped the knocker down twice. After just a couple of moments, a wavy-haired woman answered.

“Oh,” she said, her tone even. “You must be the detective. Here… come out of the rain.”

Shuichi thanked the woman and allowed her to lead him and Kirumi through the foyer and into a warm little parlor. The maid appreciated the tidiness of the room. Even the various documents spread on the table had been placed with care and order.

The tenants kept two floral-print divans and an armchair arranged in a way that welcomed company– around a coffee table, next to the warm blaze of the fireplace. A mirror stood on the hearth, reflecting Kirumi’s image back to her. The room’s perfect lighting accentuated her soft skin, rosy cheeks, and glistening green eye.

A vase of lilies sat next to the mirror. A droplet of water creeping down the crystal indicated that someone had placed them into water only recently. Kirumi would have considered the flowers a nice touch if she hadn’t know what they represented.

_A departed soul..._

The lillies seemed to momentarily capture the attention of the young woman who’d lead them in. She twisted her top button, just staring at the flowers. Finally, she tucked a sandy strand of hair behind her ear. Her blue eyes glowed softer, weaker.

“I am not sure know how much you know about Miu…” The woman’s voice was as crisp as the crackling fire, “but this is a strange place for her to have lived.”

“Yes.”

A second, shorter, slightly plumper lady emerged from a door that must have led to the kitchen. She held beautiful brass dish filled with chocolates. “If she’d had her way, this place would be covered in oil and strange knick-knacks and things.”

Both women motioned for their guests to sit. Shuichi took the divan across from the woman and Kirumi sat in the armchair. She place her carpet bag and umbrella next to the chair before removing a pen and a pad of paper from the bag.

“My condolences,” said Shuichi. He twitched, his pale skin gaining a slight redness. He removed his hat quickly, giving their hosts an apologetic glance for not having done so sooner. “I know that this is probably a lot for you. I can’t imagine you enjoy being interviewed so soon after losing your sister.”

The chubbier woman regarded Shuichi; the fragility of her expression matched her sister’s. She swept a few of the documents to one side and placed her dish on the table.

“It’s sad,” she admitted. “But we know that we must cooperate if we want justice for our sister. And we know that… we do not want anyone else to feel this way.”

Kirumi watched Shuichi’s expression change– only enough for someone who knew him well to notice.

The maid tapped her pen against her parchment, creating a faint dot.

_He’s remembering Kaede again… He has to be…_

The room possessed such a melancholy energy. Its lovely decor suddenly felt like a weak facade. The gloominess in everyone’s minds was too powerful for the aesthetic of the parlor to cure. Kirumi felt as though a sheet of ice, colder than the rainy outdoors, coated them all… She and Shuichi needed to choose their words carefully for fear of shattering the thin peace.

“Oh!” said the first woman at last. “Excuse us. We never gave our names. I’m Mai Iruma.” She gestured towards the shorter woman. “This is my younger sister Mina.”

“I am Detective Shuichi Saihara,” said Shuichi. “It’s a pleasure. This woman is my maid, Kirumi Toujou. She’ll be writing down our conversation. Do you have any objections?”

“None at all,” said Mai, shaking her head. Her long hair rippled. “Like I said, Mina and I want you to solve this case. We’re willing to help in any way we can.”

Mina nodded. She delicately pulled a sheet of paper from the coffee table. Her eyes skimmed across the words quickly. Finally she said,

“Feel free to look at these documents. We gathered anything we could find that have information on who Miu was and who she was around prior to her death… They’re things like class lists and her birth certificate. Ah… take chocolates too. We had some neighbors give them to us after the funeral and… Mai and I aren’t sure we can eat them all.”

Shuichi leaned over and took a stack of papers and one of candies. He ate the chocolate in a few bites before checking his fingers for any smudges.

“Do you think the person who did it was… someone she knew?” asked Mai. The woman’s forehead wrinkled and she wrung the end of her dark skirt. Her long nails dug into the fabric.

“To be honest… That does not seem likely,” said Shuichi, putting his hand back in his lap. “So far, there does not seem to be any connection between the murders. Well, beyond gender and age range… Still, I’ve asked that the officer who witnessed your sister’s death collect information on all the women killed. If we do find a connection, this will all come in handy.”

“I do not know… what’s worse,” said Mina, “for Miu to have been killed by someone we know or… for her death to be just a bit of casual fun for some monster.”

The young woman reached down an selected a chocolate from the tray, pushing it between her red lips. She rubbed the tray, causing faint, cloudy streaks on the brass. The purposeful smudging bothered Kirumi just a bit, but she could tell that there was emotion behind the action.

The maid began to take notes as Mina spoke once more.

“Heh… Miu made us this beautiful dinner tray, you know. She was always so good with her hands. I don’t think she ever once bought anyone a Christmas or birthday gift, but she made the most beautiful things.... even complicated appliances… She was smarter than Mai or I could ever be. Just… so hard to manage. We had such difficulty getting through to her… warn…” Mina sniffled, her nasal passage began to stuff up, making hiding her distress impossible. “...warning her…”

Kirumi knew that sympathy must have been flooding through Shuichi’s mind. Still, outwardly, he remained professional. The warm lighting had turned his irises back to gold.

“Can you tell me more about your sister?” he requested, reading one of the sheets. “What was she like? What were her hobbies?”

The sisters shared a steady glance.

Though she refrained from writing the observation on her pad, Kirumi noted how the women seemed to be on the same wavelength. Both of them came across as mature and feminine. Just from watching, Kirumi could tell that they’d been just a bit closer with each other than to Miu… Perhaps... they’d bonded even more with each other over their feelings for Miu.

“She was 5 years younger than Mina and nine years younger than me,” said Mai at last. “I think she may have seen life much differently than the two of us did because… Well, she never knew our mother. Mother did not made it through the delivery.”

Mina snatched another candy from the tray and leaned down by the fireplace, tossing a small log in for the dying flames to eat. She lingered, hunched down, the fireplace an excuse for her to step out from the conversation if just for a moment. She bit down on the chocolate slowly. Kirumi realized that this was what a human would call a coping strategy... Eating... sleeping... things like that to ease the pain.

_I wish I could help her... Give her something that might really help._

Kirumi banished the thought from her mind. Granting wishes indiscriminately had gotten her in trouble before.

Mai continued.

“Our father was rarely around after that. I know that it is common for men who go through something like that to turn to alcohol and neglect their children but… well, what happened to our father was slightly different. He didn’t get addicted to the bottle… but to his work. I think that he thought that he needed to give us all the most comfortable life possible to make up for the motherless life we were all to lead but.. Oh… grief can really confuse the mind… He just… worked and worked until one day…”

No one needed her to finish her sentence. Mina stood, still watching the fire devour wood. The light tinted her skin orange and cast shadows beneath her eyes and jaw.

Tearing her eyes from the younger sister, Kirumi checked on Shuichi. The young man had laced his fingers, hooking his thumbs beneath his chin. He focused on Mai, but the slight movement of his Adam’s apple and a quick blink of his eyes hinted at his uncomfortability.

“Father died when I was fourteen,” Mai went on. “Miu was five at that point but… she hadn’t really ever known either of our parents, only Mina and me. With the fortune father left us, we were able to survive. Our grandmother was meant to look after us until we were of age, but… she hardly came around.”

Kirumi copied each and every word, looping her letters quickly. Briefly, she viewed the cursive and wondered how the Iruma sisters’ story could at all be applicable to the case but… She didn’t have the heart or the place to ask them to skip even a single detail. More than anything… They probably just needed someone, anyone to listen to them. The grieving often needed to speak their minds.

“We still wonder if this is why Miu grew up to be so odd,” said Mina with an awkward laugh. Finally, she gently pushed off from the hearth and returned to the couches. With a pair of tiny tongs, she took two sugar cubes and dropped them into her cup of tea.

“Odd?” wondered Shuichi. “Because she was an inventor? That’s a bit rare for women but...” He smiled. “It’s admirable.”

Mai shook her head. “We were always supportive of her craft. No, we just worried about her social skills. After she hit about thirteen…”

The elder sister glanced to Mina for help, as if she couldn’t quite word what she wanted to say. Mina bounced her head from side to side like a pendulum, organizing her thoughts carefully.

“Miu took an interest in anything of a sexual nature.” Mina bit her lip. “She, um, well, we often heard about her harassing young men… sometimes women too… She really had no tact. Mai and I tried so hard to get her to be more appropriate, but she waved us off. She got more and more out of hand. Sometimes we wondered if she’d do things just to frustrate us. Like going to that damn tavern.”

Mina pressed her teeth down until her bottom lip turned white. With wide eyes, she stared at her lap, not even reaching for another candy. Kirumi wondered if the woman had admitted defeat, admitted that no amount of sugar could help her.

Rubbing her sister’s shoulder, Mai delicately wrinkled up the fabric of Mina’s dress and smoothed it back down again.

“She disobeyed us even at the moment of her death,” said Mai quietly.

At this, Shuichi leaned in with interest.

“She was on the way to a tavern?”

“Yes… She was found on the road she tended to take and I cannot think of any other reason she would have left home at such a late hour. We’re certain she was on her way to… Do you need me to slow down, dear?”

Kirumi paused, her pen still on the parchment. She lifted her pad from her lap and flipped it so that their host could see every line of immaculate dialogue. Mai stared at the notes in wonder.

“Ah, that’s incredible... Oh… where was I?’

“You were explaining the tavern,” said Suichi. He ran his hand through his hair and, briefly, his cowlick stayed flat before springing up again. Kirumi had long since given up trying to tame that thing. She hardly minded it anymore; it was a unique part of her Shuichi.

“Yes. The Starward Tavern. It’s way on the unsavory side of town. Miu loved that place. Unfortunately, going there all the time only inflamed her bad habits. She cursed worse than anyone I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Miu had a very different idea of authenticity than either of us,” said Mina. “She only felt like she knew someone if she saw their dirty side. Unfortunately, in the end, she probably connected with gamblers and prostitutes more than with her own sisters.”

Circling the words “Starward Tavern,” Kirumi surveyed the parlor once more. She couldn’t imagine a woman like Miu Iruma living in such a lovely home. Why would one who had access to beauty and comfort, leave it in favor of old bars? The maid liked that Mina and Mai seemed confused as well… Too often, Kirumi would deem certain behavior strange only to find that Shuichi understood the concept quite well. For example, he understood the appeal of having days with no plans far better than she did. At least, she wasn’t the only one at a loss in this instance.

“Did your sister have anyone she was particularly close to from this tavern?” asked Shuichi. “Is there anyone who may have known that she’d be coming?”

“Celestia Ludenberg....” muttered Mina.

“Celestia Ludenberg?” Shuichi repeated, forehead wrinkling. “That… doesn’t seem right. She is a gambler and we’ve been trying to catch her doing illicit activity for years but she’s so much more polished then how you’ve described your sister and her friends.”

“Miss Ludenberg did more than just gamble,” said Mai, darkly. “She collected information on anything she could. That woman is a manipulator. It wouldn’t surprise me if she knew some secret about someone in the police… that’s likely why she’s never caught doing anything prohibited.”

“Hmmm… she goes to this tavern to learn secrets and twist people’s arms then,” said Shuichi. “Your sister was friends with her?”

“I wouldn’t say friends,” said Mina. “They had a lot to offer each other though. Celestia loved commissioning Miu and, in return, would share gossip with her. Miu loved anything scandalous. Of all the tavern regulars, Miu tended to speak of Miss Ludenberg most. Also...”

The woman rubbed her forehead. She made a brief, unrefined expression— hitching up her nose and curling her lips across her teeth.

“Miu... reacted so oddly to any kind of confrontation. She’d bark, but stand with her tail between her legs the second anyone order her around. We suspected that Miss Ludenberg took advantage of that quite often.”

Kirumi raised an eyebrow as she finished taking down the sisters’ words. She added a few notes of her own in the margins.

_Question Celestia Ludenberg. Perhaps she knows about Jack the Ripper himself?_

Shuichi must have been on Kirumi’s wavelength. He stood and bowed deeply before checking his pocket watch and closing it with a sharp “snap.”

“Thank you so much. This has as all been helpful. I will make certain to investigate this tavern. Even if we find nothing directly related to your sister, maybe the people there understand Jack a bit better than the authorities.” The detective took the stack off documents that the sisters had laid out on the table.

“I promise you. I won’t drop this case for any reason. I will find the man who killed your sister.”

Mai and Mina stood and walked the detective and maid back to the front door. The swaying of the curtains and slanted rain indicated that the weather had not yet calmed. Kirumi tucked her pen and parchment into her carpet bag and readied her umbrella.

“Good luck, detective,” said Mai softly. “We Wish you the best. And... Miu... she was strange, maybe a bit crazy, but... The man who hurt her. He had no right!” She clenched her fists before slowly easing up. “I think you understand this well. Thank you... thank you for doing something about it.”

Shuichi nodded his head gently before placing his hat back over his cowlick. Together, he and Kirumi bid the sisters good afternoon.

With one last glance at the spotless home, the maid breathed a sigh of relief that no one had shattered the fragile ice. Still… she had no way of knowing when the sadness permeating the house would thaw.

 

✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥

 

“How far away is the funeral home?” asked Shuichi when they got back on the road. He passed the Irumas’ documents to Kirumi who slid them into her bag before the rain could damage anything.

“Just one more block… Did you see anything of note in any of those papers?”

“No, not at the moment. I’ll cross reference them with whatever we can get from Officer Ishimaru later. But, as I said, my hunch is that these victims do not have a personal connection with Jack the Ripper.”

“Just a hunch, huh…”

Kirumi rubbed a stray drop of rain from her lashes. She knew to heed her master’s intuition. Both he and Kyoko Kirigirl possessed strong instincts when it came to mysteries. Neither one of them worked on their inklings alone, but their gut feelings usually set them on the right track.

Once again, Kirumi imagined the web, the shape of the mystery.

_Will Celestia Ludenberg show us another thread?_

One more gossamer strand…

If their visit with the undertaker could provide another… they’d be on track to locating the spider they were after.

 

✥To be continued ✥


	4. Magic in the Mist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you I would write another chapter this week ;)
> 
> Okay, but this one is low key my favorite yet.

The funeral home stood proudly on the very end of the street, wedged between two lamp posts. Made of dark brick, the building emanated an entirely different aura from the Iruma sisters’ home. Kirumi thought she and Shuichi– with their dark clothing, serious eyes, and pale faces– probably fit in more at the funeral parlor… but she preferred the bright colors, floral furnature, and calm lighting of the Irumas’ house.

Opening the front door, Shuichi led Kirumi into a narrow vestibule. Here, the wallpaper was striped grey and black and faded with age. Many old photographs in tarnished frames hung on the walls. The detective studied a few of them, muttering,

“Why are they all animals?”

Kirumi had been wondering the same thing. She saw tabby cats, a basket of puppies under a christmas tree, and even a murder of crows taking flight. Every sepia image depicted a different kind of creature. These decorations felt out of place for a funeral home, but Kirumi still appreciated them. The maid paused when she came to the very last photograph in the line. Gently, she touched the frame, marveling at the creature in the photograph.

Noticing that she’d stopped, Shuichi came up beside her and gaped.

“Is that a Great Auk?” he said. “There’s no way…”

The proud black-and-white bird in the picture was indeed a Great Auk. It had its head tilted up towards the cloudy sky. With a closed beak and tucked-in wings, the Auk just sat, keeping a weather eye on something past the camera’s view.

“They were interesting creatures,” said Kirumi, removing her hand from the frame. “On the day they went extinct... was horribly sad.”

“That was long before I was even born,” said Shuichi. He removed his hat, pulling it to his chest, cupping his breast pocket and watch beneath it. “I’ve only read about them and seen drawings. You wouldn’t think, with my line of work, that something like the extinction of a bird species would bother me all that much but… it really did.”

Kirumi wished that he wouldn’t see such feelings as a weakness.

“You’re have sensitivity and rationale,” she said. “Of course you would be bothered by something like that.”

Shuichi trained his focus on the image, his grey eyes absorbing the lines and shadows. He took one slow step back, the floorboards creaking under his dress shoes.

”You’ve seen one of things alive, haven’t you?” he said.

“Yes. I remember thinking their eggs were the loveliest of all animals… like a canvass splattered over with ink.”

Shuichi’s expression softened as he turned to her.

“It’s difficult to make sense of what happened to them,” he admitted. “I remember reading that.. In 1844, two men came upon the last known Great Auk pair. The birds were incubating an egg at the time. These hunters strangled both birds with their hands before stomping on the egg… the very last egg.”

Kirumi watched his eyes dull for a moment and wondered if he could see that rocky island above grey waves, the two parents, their egg, and the hunters. Like Shuichi, Kirumi had not been there on this day so she too struggled to imagine what the moment would have been like. She could see the black-and-white birds… cruel fists… their bodies falling upon the volcanic stone… a shadow looming over the little egg.

The world going still.

“It was not logical,” she said. “Not at all.”

Shuichi said nothing. He dropped his hand down to his side, swinging his hat slightly. Though Kirumi had no way of knowing what what running through his brain at the moment, she knew that she needed to get him back on track. He was a detective and he had a job to do-- as did she. Neither one of them could afford to stand in pensive silence for long.

Not when they could be the only ones standing between Jack and even more death.

She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Come. Let’s interview the undertaker.”

He straightened and his expression returned to its normal state. He pulled his shoulders back slightly. Kirumi couldn’t help but smile at his resolve; he wasn’t composed all the time— he fell into uncertainty. However, he had all the potential to be a great detective. He possessed great faith and distrust, great sympathy and firmness… Someday he was going to be the most talented investigator who ever lived.

With selfless devotion, Kirumi would guide him to that point.

Shuichi led her to the end of the vestibule where a plum-colored curtain hung from a rod in the doorway. He hesitated at first then called out,

“Mr. Tanaka?”

Shuichi gently brushed back the curtain and entered. The silence of the funeral parlor put Kirumi on high alert. She kept her ears trained on Shuichi, listening to the light sounds of his breathing and the rustling of his clothes– sounds that only animals and celestial beings had the ability to track from a distance. With her eyes, she searched the room beyond the veil.

Like the Iruma house, the parlor was pristine. An opulent red rug with cream-colored tassels covered most of the floorboards. In the corner, next to a staircase, stood an ornate grandfather clock. At some point, its hands had frozen at a quarter past three. The apple cider-colored wallpaper tied the decor together and matched a few sofas in the center of the room.

The only thing that seemed out of place was a pile of men’s overcoats by the wall, directly under five hooks. Kirumi wanted to hang them up, but refrained herself. She wasn’t sure it was her place to handle the belongings of a stranger.

The angel glanced over at Shuichi when he headed over to read a wooden panel by the hooks.

 

_Tarot readings, palm readings–_

_Both offered by a professional_

 

“How odd,” muttered Kirumi. She frowned at the dark script.

Shuichi swiped his hand across the panel. He shrugged.

“I think it would probably be too intrusive of us to check upstairs for the undertaker. Perhaps we should wait?”

The detective signed and leaned back against the wall. He stared at a vague spot on the wallpaper for just a moment, collecting his thoughts before he straightened up. As he did, the backs of his shoes hit the pile of coats.

Almost instantly, the heap jerked and Shuichi let out a startled yell. He lurched forward and nearly toppled over. Kirumi surged towards him, streadying him with one arm. After the investigator regained his balance, Kirumi swooped towards the heap of clothing and tore up one dark coat from the pile.

The first thing the celestial saw was a chunk of bright red hair. The coats shifted once more and a girl popped her head up. Her droopy brown eyes glistened with fright and latent tears. She clutched her nose with her hands. Crying out with a nasally voice, she said,

“Nyeh?! Who are you people?!”

“I could ask you the same thing!” said Shuichi, recovering from his shock. “What are you doing on the floor?! Where’s Gundham Tanaka?”

Pulling her hands away from her face, the girl glanced from Shuichi to Kirumi. Like Shuichi, she seemed to be calming down from her initially surprise. Slowly, her face reverted back into a somewhat drowsy expression. She yawned.

“Oh… I see… You’re Gundham’s clients. Ah… I forgot where I was for a moment....”

Before Kirumi or Shuichi could say another word, the staircase at the back of the room creaked. A man stomped down each step. When he whirled around, Kirumi took a good look at his face. The man had no eyebrows and his brow bone was lower than most. A pale scar ran from just above his eye to the bottom of his cheek. His slate-grey eyes assessed the situation as he tucked a plum-colored scarf into his vest.

“What exactly are you?” he said harshly, pointing to Shuichi. “A banshee? Your hair-raising scream made me certain that the denizens of Gehenna had at last come to duel me for my sempiternal soul.”

“It… It was not that bad,” said Shuichi, trying to compose himself. “I just did not expect anyone to be lying on the ground.”

Kirumi nodded, a bit irked. She smoothed her pinafore.

“What on earth is a young lady doing curled up in a place like this? You cannot fault my master. Why would he think to check for a person under all that mess?”

The man turned his attention to the girl. He lightly pressed one of his shoulders as if in an attempt to crack it, but to no avail.

“Enchantress, though I respect your willingness to follow the ways of our beasts, I cannot allow bedlam in our sanctuary.”

At this, the girl pouted. She stood quickly. Her eyes widened for a second; she pat the top of her head and gasped. Quickly, the redhead bent over and dug through the coats until she pulled a floppy old hat from the mess. She set it atop her hair.

“W-well,” she said. “I think that that man should still apologize for hitting a witch in the nose!”

_Witch?_

Kirumi’s eyes narrowed. She’d taken the term “enchantress” as an odd sort of pet name. However… did she need to be worried about this girl? The fallen celestial drew in the girl’s aura, searching for any trace of darkness. Finding none, she sighed.

These people are certainly eccentric. But… as long as Master is not in any danger, I needn’t worry.

Shuichi looked the girl over again. Kirumi wasn’t sure how he’d taken the girl’s claim that she was a witch, but he didn’t seem frightened. He stared at her nose and a guilty expression passed over his eyes.

“You’re right. It’s proper for me to apologize for striking a lady even if I didn't do it intentionally.” He gave her a quick bow and the waist. “I’m sorry Miss, um….”

“Himiko,” said the girl with a pleased curtsy and a bit of a coy smile. “I’m Himiko Yumeno. I accept your apology.”

She yawned again, rubbing her eyes. With a frown on her face, she glanced back towards the coats on the floor. Himiko tapped her dainty chin, then her eyes widened.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. She clasped Shuichi’s hand in both of hers. The motion made Kirumi tense, but slowly start to relax when she noticed of the innocence in Himiko’s eyes. “Mister, if you want a tarot card reading, I’ll give you one! I accept payment in the form of sweets,” she raised one finger, “and head rubs.” She raised a second finger, forming a ‘v.’

The intense-looking man sighed and pressed a hand to his forehead.

“Enchantress, I have warned you many times. Your exchanges are far too imbalanced. Ask for something that you can sustain yourself on.”

“Nyeh…” said Himiko. “But I want to go back to sleep. It always helps when I’ve had something to eat or someone patting my head!” She lifted Shuichi’s hand. “Please! It won’t take long. Or-- Or maybe, you want to, lady?”

She smiled at Kirumi.

The maid shook her head. “I am on duty. Besides, I do not really like tarot readings... My master may decide to do whatever he pleases, however.”

Again, Himiko stared back at Shuichi. He sighed.

“Okay… Quickly. Then I need to have a word with Gundham Tanaka.” Shuichi turned to the man. “That is you, right?”

The undertaker nodded. “I am. The lavender-haired maiden told me that you’d be visiting .” Tanaka ran a hand through his hair, briefly pinching one of the grey streaks. The man was only in his mid-to-late twenties so Kirumi wondered why he was already greying.

_Stress? Or perhaps he was just born that way._

Himiko led Shuichi over to one of the sofas and sat him down. She reached into a pouch at her waist, a cute little sack embroidered with little white rabbits. The girl drew a pack of gorgeous cards. Even Kirumi, who was wary of tarot cards, thought the detailed blue and silver constellations on the back of each card were the work of a true artist. The way Orion shimmered as it reached up towards Ursa Major, the way each star seemed to glisten… it was masterful.

The self-proclaimed witch shuffled the deck and lay them out on the floor for the detective. Shuichi stared at the crescent of cards, waiting on Himiko’s instructions. The girl drew in air through her nose before saying,

“Choose three that call out to you.”

Shuichi raised a dark eyebrow, but stared down at the spread. His long fingers reached forward and then hesitated. Kirumi suspected that, if the clock were functioning properly, the ticking of the hands and swinging of the pendulum would have seemed deafening. The silence allowed her to pay close attention to everyone’s heartbeats. They sounded typical for the time being…

Finally, the investigator tapped three of the royal blue cards. Himiko collected the unchosen cards, stacking them off to the side. She passed her tiny hand over the three tarots a few times before flipping them one after the other.

“Three of swords… the hanged man… the six of cups.”

Kirumi leaned forward to observe the images. The three of swords and the hanged man concerned her the most. The first depicted an anatomically correct heart pierced by three long blades. Drops of black blood dripped off each sword hilt. The second tarot showed the silhouette of a man, dangling by his foot from a spindly tree. A sun was setting in the background, casting the man’s shadow far into the foreground. At least the final card’s artwork seemed hopeful. That one displayed two children, a boy and a girl. Five of the goblets lay on the ground at their feet while the boy offered the girl the sixth. The cup in his hand sparkled, rays of light reaching out to the girl.

Himiko studied each image then interpreted their meaning.

“The three of swords and six of cups are both minor arcana. This means that they are near and fleeting. The hanging man is a major arcana which means that it is something deeper. It is something within you or something you must accept. Or a turning point. Now lets see….”

Again, she breathed, this time closing her eyes. When she opened them, she stared at Shuichi.

“The three of swords represents heartbreak. Soon you will be in an intense emotional pain. From there, the story moves onto the hanging man– a change in perspectives… Next the six of cups, a revisit to the past. Put the whole picture together and I’d say… that whatever path you’re on now will lead you to a traumatic event that changes everything for you…” She smiled. “But it’s not all bad. None of the cards are reversed and it ends on the six of cups. A revisit to the past usually implies that you’re meant to regain your grounding.”

Finally, Himiko removed the cards and tucked them back into her deck. She stretched and giggled.

“Hey… I think I did a good job with that, don’t you, Mister? It’s magic! And I did it right in front of you so you have to accept my talents.” She bounced up and landed on her knees.

“I…” Shuichi seemed lost in thought for just a moment. Kirumi hoped that he wasn’t taking the reading too seriously. Afterall, he was a man of reality, of evidence. He couldn’t actually be taking these silly card tricks to heart….

Finally, the investigator just smiled. “Yes, that was, um, amazing…”

The girl grinned at Tanaka, checking to see that he’d heard the praise as well. She adjusted her witch’s hat and pointed back at Shuichi.

“I want my payment. What is it? Candy or head pat?”

Shuichi chuckled into his palm. Kirumi couldn’t help but smile when he released tension. After their tragic visit with the Iruma sisters… Well, the maid was glad that the day wouldn’t be filled with only bitter sadness.

“I don’t have any sweets on me,” admitted Shuichi. He turned to Kirumi. “How about you?”

She shook her head.

“I’m afraid not, Master Shuichi.”

“Head pat it is then.”

Himiko removed her hat with a giggle, allowing him to stroke her red hair for a few moments. When he withdrew his hand, she yawned and fell to her side on the sofa. She tucked her knees to her chest and, though her dress was long enough to provide full coverage, Kirumi couldn’t help find the position a bit unladylike.

“Not as warm as all… all of the coats. But it will do.”

Her lashes fluttered and she drifted off more quickly than Kirumi had ever seen anyone fall asleep.

Gundham Tanaka suppressed a grin. He removed his own suit jacket and placed it over the girl. Himiko was so tiny, so delicate that the coat wrapped her up like a blanket. Kirumi knew that Gundham’s lingering body heat made the coat even more comforting.

“Foolish mortal enchantress… You know you just have to ask if you ever require something like warmth.”

Kirumi took a seat next to Shuichi and readied her notes and pen. Shuichi waited for her to settle before focusing his attention back on the undertaker. After watching how tenderly he had treated Himiko, Kirumi reevaluated Tanaka. He had a kinder soul than she’d first thought.

“Nice to formally meet you, Mr. Tanaka,” said Shuichi. “You and your…Well, I’m not sure…. Is Himiko an apprentice? A relation?”

Tanaka crossed his leg over his knee and shook his head. He pat a lump in his vest pocket which Kirumi assumed was a handkerchief or watch.

“I am not fond of leaving strays to their own devices. The ferity of this world often proves too difficult to bear… at least for those without a guardian of my caliber.” His grey eyes fell on Himiko. “Years ago, this girl’s parents were brought before me in caskets. They’d met their demise while sailing. It was by will of the fates that we even recovered their bodies.”

The undertaker pursed his lips. “She was supposed to stay in my care until I could find someone to adopt her but…” Tanaka chuckled. “That never happened. She amuses me so I did not mind keeping her.”

“You’re certainly similar people,” said Shuichi. He watched Himiko as she shifted, turning her back to them and burying her face into the velvet back of the couch. Her hat fell from the back of her head and onto the floor.

Tanaka gently picked up the hat and held it, bottom up.

Kirumi gasped as his breast pocket twitched and a rat leaped out. The little brown creature landed on the undertaker’s cuff.

Shuichi, startled as well, pulled back, pressing himself against the back of the sofa. His eyes widened until his long lashes became like dark wreaths emphasizing his pinprick pupils.

Two more rats darted from beneath Tanaka’s scarf and another slid from his sleeve. The four rodents scurried into the hat.

“That’s really not safe!” said Shuichi. “Those things are full of diseases—”

“I’m full aware of the perils of keeping such beasts, boy,” said the undertaker. He reached into the hat and scooped up one of the plump little bodies. “London is a cradle of horrors. Death seems to shadow us at every turn. Plague… killers… and terrors even more arcane.”

The man’s hand tightened on the brim of the hat. Kirumi knew that rats were creatures of low intelligence when compared to humans and angels, yet… these ones seemed to respond to Tanaka. They peered up at him with eyes like rare black pearls almost as if… questioning him.

“But I—” said Tanaka, “I bow to no one, not even Thanatos himself. I am no vassal to fear. I recognize death as a library of new information. You cannot learn how to fight or safeguard unless you know thy enemy. These rodents… they are not the enemy. You would not cut off your head to rid yourself of lice would you? I will not slaughter a species to cure a malady.”

Tanaka pointed one finger towards the entrance. Almost too subtly to notice, his eyes darted towards Himiko on the sofa. He dug his thumb into the brim of her hat and said,

“You saw the photograph of the great avian in the vestibule, did you not? That creature’s demise came about through avarice and fear. There is a famous story about sailors mistaking a Great Auk for a witch. In their panic, they murdered the beast. As I said, I do not prostrate myself to fear; I will battle with danger rather than risk exterminating something beautiful.”

Tanaka’s manner of speaking proved a bit difficult for even Kirumi to decipher at first, but, when she considered his words, his point grew clearer.

_He’s explaining why he is a undertaker…_

“Your ideas are admirable,” muttered Shuichi. “But still, we should take measures to protect ourselves. I’d rather not be near animals known to spread disease.”

Tanaka scoffed.

“You think like unambitious mortal boys often do.”

Shuichi scowled. “Stop calling me a boy. I’m an adult.” Regaining his composure, he said. “Besides, if I had no ambition, I wouldn’t be here now. We want the same thing. To prevent avoidable deaths. I just need you to give me information on the victims of Jack the Ripper.”

Setting the rodent-filled hat back on the table and plopping the fourth rat back with its brothers, Tanaka remover some folded up parchment from his pocket and handed it to Shuichi.

“Most of the past victims have already been buried. I suspect you can get records from the red-eyed officier. But I took the liberty of draw up each cadaver, marking each laceration.”

Kirumi pressed her pen to paper as Tanaka explained further.

“These wounds bear similarities. They are all clean as a slice from Kronos’s scythe. I never could have predicted that such a mere farm tool could carve through flesh so easily.”

“Officer Ishimaru mentioned that the weapon that killed Miu Iruma was a sickle,” said Shuichi with a nod. “I’m still working on getting older files, so I need you to confirm… were all these women killed the same way?”

Tanaka nodded.

“Each demoiselle brought to me suffered the same deadly wound. None were violated in any further way.”

Shuichi rubbed his chin and surveyed the drawings Tanaka had given to him.

“This makes figuring out a motive complicated, unfortunately,” he said. “We haven’t found anything that could connect these women. I wanted information on what became of the other girls after death because Ishimaru showed up on the scene for Miu’s death. That could have prevented Jack from leaving hints of his motive.”

The detective folded the paper back up and slid it into the same pocket that held his watch.

“If none of these women were tortured or violated then… we have no clear motive.”

Kirumi quickly scrawled all this down on a sheet of paper.

_Jack does not seem to kill out of passion…_

Though Kirumi did not have the detective experience that Shuichi or Kirigiri did, she knew that usually serial murderers killed to satisfy a desire to cause agony. Psychopaths and sociopaths hurt people because the tears and pain of others gave them pleasure. If Jack had really performed his murders in such a clean, quick, and painless way… was he really a typically lunatic? Or did he have a goal, a purpose beyond satiating his own sick desires?

Shuichi stood.

“I appreciate your help, Mr. Tanaka.”

He reached out to initiate a handshake, but the undertaker just stared coldly.

“You do not want to touch me, boy. I carry all the curses of London on my back.”

Kirumi narrowed her eyes. As someone who bore a curse herself, she could tell that this man hadn’t been infected with any true darkness, but… He’d certainly witnessed many tragedies.

With a nervous chuckle, Shuichi lowered his hand.

“I will leave you to your business.”

Packing up her notes into her bag and standing, Kirumi curtsied.

“A pleasure meeting you, undertaker.”

Neither the maid nor her master looked back while they exited through the veil between the meeting room and vestibule. Still, Kirumi felt Gundham Tanaka staring; she listened to the slight hitch of Himiko’s breath as the girl dreamed.

 

✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥✥

 

“So…” said Shuichi, carefully clicking the door shut behind him. He placed his hat back on his head once more. “What did you think?”

The rain from the morning had stopped, leaving only murky skies behind. Down the block, a few young children were splashing around in the puddles, no doubt creating an extra load of laundry for their poor mothers.

Kirumi tucked her umbrella beneath her arm before saying,

“About which part precisely?”

As he walked, Shuichi stared off as if he hadn’t fully considered the answer to that himself. Kirumi expected him to bring up Jack the Ripper’s motive of the undertaker’s opinions on death. The detective surprised her when he said,

“Miss Yumeno’s prophecy… It sounded alarmingly plausible… In the past I would have dismissed it but… now I know you.”

The maid, once again, recalled that moment in the cemetery.

Large black wings.

Divine power.

His eyes locked on hers.

She felt a brief uneasiness in her heart and wondered if, perhaps, involving Shuichi Saihara in the world of the supernatural had been irresponsible. Kirumi pursed her lips and perished the thought. No, she valued him too much to regret anything now.

“Himiko Yumeno is just a child playing games,” Kirumi said at last. “She possesses no real magic, only strong fantasies. She is not a real witch. That said…” Kirumi lightly hopped over a puddle. “I would advise any human to be sceptical of things that promise you prophecies or supernatural powers.”

The maid smiled fondly at Shuichi who hung on every word she spoke. Now, his eyes shone a calm grey.

“Those who seek to know their end often arrive at it ahead of schedule,” Kirumi went on. She changed the umbrella to her other arm. “Master Shuichi, we are all born with exactly what we need to reach our destinies. Humans… you have no special powers or abilities of your own because that is not what you are meant for. Supernaturals... we are powerful, but we do not change. We have lived the same way since the dawn of time. But, because humans are weak, they grow. Your species learns and shapes the world in ways no one else can.”

Before she processed what she was even doing, Kirumi reached over and cupped her gloved hand over one side of the inspector’s face.

“Just promise me you won’t try to cheat at life. You have everything you need.”

Shuichi’s mouth opened slightly. They’d both come to a full stop on the road. Kirumi, realizing what she’d done, tore her hand away. She gave a short bow of apology.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted you to understand. I am not telling you this because I am any smarter than you. I say this because I’ve made mistakes I wish to spare you from.”

Kirumi cringed. She didn’t quite know what would become of a human who overstepped the line. All she knew was the pain of an angel who had. In the end, good intentions meant not even a quarter of what actions meant. In coddling every human… regardless of their wish… she’d gone from a creature of light to an ugly, cursed thing.

Something like that… wouldn’t happen to a human, would it? Death is one thing, but curses…

The maid didn’t want to think about that. She’d never allow Shuichi to die, much less become cursed. She wouldn’t even allow him to get hurt.

“If all this is true,” said Shuichi slowly. “Is our deal wrong? I’m taking advantage of your power, aren’t I?”

Clenching her fists, Kirumi replied,

“These circumstances are unique. But the most important thing is that my abilities are still my own. I haven’t granted you anything you shouldn’t possess. I am also careful… to only use the bare minimum of my talents. I don’t put you in any danger…. I….” Kirumi hung her head, her body almost felt as though it were in actual pain. “I am not giving you any charity, Master. You pay me with access to you work so that I may find someone in need, someone with a pure wish. Once I do...”

“You’ll become a normal celestial again and you’ll leave,” finished Shuichi. “I understand that our relationship is professional. I’ll still miss you, though. I know you don’t really understand… but I see you as a friend too.”

Though he didn’t mean any harm, his sincerity made Kirumi’s throat tighten and dry up. She grew all too aware of her own heartbeat. In that moment, she wondered if she’d follow her own advice.

_Supernaturals cannot have what humans have and humans cannot have what supernaturals have… still… it seems unfair… I’d give up mere power for a chance to… understand the concept of friendship the way you do._

Shuichi started walking again.

“Let’s get back on track,” he said. “Our next stop is Starward Tavern. But I want us to go home and change first. Something tells me that this crowd wouldn’t be too keen on helping out a straight-laced detective.”

 

_✥To be continued✥_


End file.
